


Same Time Next Year

by adeclanfan



Series: Same Time Next Year [1]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adeclanfan/pseuds/adeclanfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Watson meets a young soldier in a bar on Boxing Day. (James/Declan) first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Time Next Year

_Beautiful boy,_ James thought to himself. He didn't often think such things about a young man in uniform, but this one was exceptional. Another thing he rarely did was sit in a pub and watch someone get drunk. Boxing Day was a cause for celebration, so why did this young man look like he was trying his hardest not to break down and cry in front of a pub full of revelers? _That won't do a'tall._ James sighed to himself, then raised a hand to flag down his server, a lovely, lush woman with a very tight t-shirt and short bottoms. 

The young man looked up from his pint when the two fingers of hard liquor were set on the scarred wood bar in front of him. James watched the bartender pass along his message to the soldier, and read the surprise and subsequent frown in the mirror. _Doesn't get bought drinks very often, does he? Damn shame, that._ The young man picked up the glass and swirled the contents for a full minute before downing it in one go. James was impressed, but resisted the urge to send another. He didn't want to be responsible for a traffic accident, should the man decide to get behind the wheel. 

The pub was like any other: dark, smoky, crowded and loud. The pub fair was better than most. He'd indulged a bit too much at the Christmas banquet last night, and today he was trying to give his digestion a rest, so he ordered a salad topped with grilled chicken and a pint. The press of bodies chased James away from the bar and into a dark corner booth. It was a bit less chaotic in his corner. 

His salad was finished and the pint had been refilled twice, and James dared not have another or he'd be the one asking for an auto accident. With his mechanically enhanced metabolism, James wouldn't get a hangover. The alcohol would be processed out of his bloodstream at a faster rate than was humanly possible. He did still get a pleasant buzz from it; especially good scotch, or a few glasses of red wine. 

Movement drew James' attention back to the mirror behind the bar. His young soldier met his eyes in the mirror and he nodded his thanks to James for the unexpected gift. A small smile lit the boy's face and James' heart missed a beat. It was hard to make his clockwork heart skip, but the pale eyes and strong lines of that face had done it. They'd also caused a stirring low in James' groin. When was the last time he'd felt rampant desire provoked by simple a smile? Been too long, too long by half.

His waitress appeared and set a glass in front of him, identical to the one he'd sent. This time James frowned, and she smiled wickedly and handed him a slip of paper pulled from her cleavage. The script was bold and yet neat; it spoke of long years of education. The message was simple and direct. _Liquid courage. Five minutes. Alley._

 _The boy has cheek!_ James first thought was followed by, _I've been summoned._ James was used to back alley intrigue. His cock already registered its vote in the tightness of his trousers. He took the alcohol in two long swallows and set some money out on the table for the waitress. She deserved the large tip. 

It was full dark now, and James was glad he'd opted for his greatcoat tonight. The alley was sheltered from the wind, but the air had the smell of impending snow. If the clouds gave way, this would be the shortest back alley assignation of all time. 

Around the corner and past the rubbish bins, a pair of men stepped from the shadows and the shorter one gave James a grin and a pat on the shoulder, “Good taste you've got, guv. Hope you've got stamina t' match that young buck...” Both men laughed as they stumbled away, leaving James to his rendezvous. 

Behind the pub, a dark figure leaned against the wall of the opposite building smoking a cigarette; an ankle length leather coat covered the uniform completely, and spoke of deep pockets, family money. 

“I could be a robber or murderer,” the deep voice scolded James, sending a shudder through him and making his cock strain at his fly. How often did people ever scold him for not being safe. Never. Okay, once in a while Helen scolded, but not in the last decade. James liked it. 

He closed the distance between them and smiled at the man, “Try to rob me and see what happens...” He could be cocky, too. 

“Better things to do before the snow starts falling...”

“Right you are, my boy.” James took the collar of the leather jacket into his hands and drew the man's mouth to his for a quick kiss. The lips were cool and surprisingly soft. He tasted of whiskey and beer and man. James' mouth watered at the thought of getting a taste of the cock what was currently grinding against his thigh. Hands fisted in James' coat and spun them around, slammed his back against the filthy brick wall. He devoured James' mouth, teasing palate and tongue with the tip of his tongue. When the young soldier pulled back, he sucked James' lower lip and didn't want to give it up. 

There was just enough light for James to see that his companion's eyes were very, very blue. The pupils dilated as James cupped the bulge in his uniform pants. 

“Why me?” The young man asked, breathlessly. 

“It's criminal for someone so young to be so sad on a day of celebration, and the day after Christmas.” James unbuckled the unfamiliar belt, and unfastened the fly. He was greeted by a thick, throbbing organ. The swollen head smeared pre-ejaculate on his palm. “Why were you drinking alone in a crowded pub?”

The man sighed, his response to James stroking his cock. It took a minute before he answered, “Anniversary of my parents' death.” He didn't elaborate, and James didn't push him. _Let him have his secrets._ James could only take a tiny portion of the pain away. He rolled them, again, then sank to his knees and took the cock into his mouth with practiced ease. The flesh was scalding hot in his mouth, and thick enough to promise James would have an aching jaw in the morning. That was a good thing. A very good thing indeed.

“Ah fuck,” his young buck moaned. “Bloody buggering hell.” The accent said north, and James' nimble mind filled in other details. Military school education. Paratrooper. On a holiday pass. 

The first flakes of snow drifted down on either side of James and he pressed his face against the taunt muscles of the young belly to warm his cheek, his hands found the perfect warmers in bare, muscular buttocks. He sucked and swirled and sucked until the boy was tugging frantically on his hair, “Stop...” he pleaded, “you've gotta stop. I can't...”

James dragged his partner closer and took the flood of semen into his mouth, swallowing part and keeping a bit, which he stood and gave back to the man with a deeply passionate kiss. “Thank you for your service to Queen and Country, soldier...” James whispered against his lips. 

That surprised a laugh out of the man, and it was a good, deep laugh, too. “Didn't realize the rewards for serving Queen and Country would include oral sex in alleys when I joined up.” 

“I usually reserve these back alley blow jobs for November 11th. I'm behind schedule.”

“Do you want me to? You know... return the favor?” _Good, God. He is young, isn't he._

James smiled, “How old are you, boy?”

“Old enough to get my cock sucked legally in a alley, sir.” 

“Touche'.” James opened his fly, took the young man's hand and placed it on his cock. “Your hand will suffice. It'll be far too easy, I'm afraid.”

“You watched me.”

“I did, yes. How could I not? You're a diamond in a bar full of coal lumps.”

The soldier jerked James' cock with an innocence that made James sigh. He pulled the boy's lips back to his and kissed him senseless; he rewarded the hand in his pants with a fountain of semen. 

_Had it really been that long since he'd brought himself off?_ It felt like decades. He gave his partner his clean handkerchief to clean up and then used it himself. Somewhere along the line, it disappeared and James smirked to himself, _Let him take a trophy, if he wants it._

“Do you live round here?” There was a note of hopefulness in the tone of the question. 

“London, mostly.”

“Oh.” 

James hated the way that beautiful face fell in disappointment. “You're a bit young for me. Makes me feel like a filthy old pervert.” The man opened his mouth to protest, but James laid a silencing finger across his lips. “I come here for the holidays, each year. Perhaps, we'll encounter each other again.”

“Right. Sure.”

He gave the man a final goodbye kiss. “Now, I must leave you. It's bloody freezing in this alley.” James thought for a second, and added, “Be careful out there. SAS is dangerous business.” 

The soldier gaped at him, “How could you possibly know that?”

James was already walking toward the end of the alley, and the street beyond. He glanced back over his shoulder, “Elementary, my dear boy. You've extra pockets in your pants.” 

 

(I didn't mean for this to turn into an episode of Queer As Folk with the age thing, but I hope you enjoyed it and are looking forward to their next meeting as much as I am.)


End file.
